Being the Baby
by singingstarryknights
Summary: It didn’t matter anymore. The tough guy, New Yorker image. None of that ever mattered with her. post RSRD pre all access. DL


Being the Baby

…

It didn't matter anymore, the tough guy, New Yorker image. None of that ever mattered with her.

…

Post 'Run Silent' Pre 'All Access'

…

Three days after the tape had cleared his name with PD, Danny Messer had fallen asleep in the chair beside his brother's bed, the soft beep of the ventilator lulling him to a light doze. His father had taken his mother to the cafeteria, she had been so angry, Lou Sr. didn't trust her in the ICU. Flack had posted a uniform at each end of the hall, so Danny was able to sit with Louie without worries of interference from Sonny's brothers, or any other Tanglewood boy. That was all out there. In the city. In this room, here in this chair, the only thing that existed was the mechanical gurglings of the machinery, him, and his brother. He didn't hear her slip in, barely noticed when she touched his shoulder lightly. It wasn't until she whispered his name that he rubbed the sleep out of his eyes gently, coming back to the ICU room, and his brother lying on his deathbed, and the soft beep that had subdued him to begin with.

"Danny." He turned to look up at her, not even trying to smile at her as she ran a hand through his short hair. His fingers went straight to her hip, and his thumb found the belt loop of the back of her jeans absently. "How's he doing?" Her words were soft, soothing to him, and he glanced at Louie's halfway dead form. It was a greeting, asking how he was doing… anyone could see Lou Messer wasn't going to wake up. Danny wasn't completely convinced that he was doing any better, apart from breathing on his own. He glanced up at her, not caring that his eyes were watering again, his vision blurred further. Not that he could see without his glasses. He had taken them off before resting his eyes. He blinked, letting the water in his eyes drip down his cheek in a tear, not caring that she saw. It didn't matter anymore, the tough guy, New Yorker image.

None of that ever mattered with her.

She reached down, gently wiping his tear from his cheek with the pad of her thumb, before laying her hand on his shoulder, running her fingers along the knot that had taken up residence there. She frowned only just, taking in how weary he looked, how broken he seemed, how tense he felt under her touch.

"Let's take a walk." He frowned, turning his gaze back to Louie and the ventilator, but she curled her fingers around his bicep, and tugged gently. "C'mon. I ran into your Dad on the way up, he said he'd be right back. Walk with me." He acquiesced, but only because he could never say no to her. She stepped back, sliding her fingers down the length of his arm, and tangling them with his in his hand.

He followed her out to the hall, slipping into the door for the stairs after her, going unnoticed by the uniforms a few yards away. He climbed the stairs in silence behind her, content to watch the soft sway of her hips as he rounded up the last few steps. She pushed open the door at the top of the stairs, and the afterglow of the city lights below them spilled over into the stairwell, lighting his way dimly. He took her hand again, slipping his fingers around her smaller ones as she came to a stop at the edge of the roof, over looking the northerly street that made up the block the hospital sat on. He rested his forearms on the bar, and she stepped close enough to stand against him, shielding him with her slight frame from the bitter breeze, letting him clasp her hand in both of his, letting his elbow rest against her chest. She had been right that he had needed to get out of that room, Lindsey was always right. He said nothing, just turned his gaze to her five fingers, turning them over with his ten, running his finger along her palm lightly. He bent, bringing her fingers to his lips, and pressed a soft kiss to her hand before speaking.

"Thanks."

"You want to talk about it?" Her voice was gentle, soft, and it calmed him. No, he didn't really want to talk about anything. He had to work it out on his own. He normally shut out everyone when it came to talk about the Tanglewood boys, preferring to downplay his almost membership and involvement in his youth. But Lindsey, Lindsey didn't care that he had held a colorful interpretation of the law prior to becoming a Detective, and a CSI. She had told him just last night, as he tried to come to terms with Louie and his seemingly worthlessness, that everyone had secrets, everyone had deeds and connections they weren't proud of, that it was okay. He had just rolled on top of her, and hugged her to him, and dried his eyes on the delicate skin of her shoulder.

"That could have been me."

"But it wasn't."

"He knew what was going down, and he got me out. Why'd he keep that for so long? Huh? Why'd he let me hate him?" The silence hung between them for a few moments, and Danny watched the scores of New Yorkers bustling about on the street below.

"Because you're the baby." She watched him frown at her explanation, but felt him squeeze her fingers gently, urging her to continue. "Every older brother just wants to make sure his younger brother stays out of trouble, Danny. You would have done the same for him. I think it was easier for Lou to let you hate him than leave you with the conundrum of whether or not to rat on your kin. Especially when the charge is murder one." She watched him bite his lip in thought, taking in her words. "We have families in Montana, Detective." His lip curved up into an amused smile at her attempt at lightening the mood.

"So how many older brothers did you hafta have to keep you outta trouble?" He was thankful for the diversion from the traumatic events of the day. Beside him, Lindsey laughed softly, and he relaxed a bit, covering her hand fully with both of his.

"Ah, eight." She blushed, and threw him a grin as he crinkled his brow, fairly certain that he had heard her incorrectly. He turned to face her, still holding her hand casually.

"Eight. As in after seven, and before nine, eight." Danny cocked an eyebrow at her disbelieving. He knew she had come from a large family, but _eight?_ She smiled softly, and shifted her weight only just, standing that much closer to him, glancing over the side of the building to the street below.

"I'm the baby. I understand, Danny."

"Thanks, Linds." He bent and placed a slow, lingering kiss to her lips, falling just shy of chaste as she let him pull her closer. Danny pulled her against him gently, wrapping his arms around her in a tight embrace. She ran her hands over his shoulders comfortingly, and down his back in a soothing stroke as he buried his face in her hair, trying to regain composure.

"It's okay to cry Detective. No one's looking." He pulled back only just, choking out a short laugh at her soft smile, not bothering to wipe the tears from his reddened eyes. He rested his forehead against hers, and closed his eyes, blinking his tears away so the slipped down his cheeks slowly. She reached up and brushed them away, before placing a steady hand on his chest.

"You're looking." He smiled faintly, and she laughed softly.

"I don't count. I'm just a country girl. I didn't buy this Staten Island bullshit from the start." He smiled fuller, and bent to kiss her again, mumbling against her lips.

"Thank you."

"For what?"

"For seeing straight through me."

………

A/N: Just a moment of support. Forgot to post it.


End file.
